Needing a Helping Hand
by EnglishGal1992
Summary: When Sherlock gets a migraine, he trust only one person to come to his aid. The question is will Mycroft answer the call?
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes lived with the belief that food and sleep were for those who were weak, and insignificant and therefore were things that he didn't require. However as he rode with John to their latest crime scene Sherlock couldn't keep his eyes open, the lights from the outside city seemed to be glaring into the cab aiming specifically at his eyes. He had hoped in vain it seemed that the pain he was experiencing would go unnoticed by John. However as they came up closer to the crime scene that Lestrade had summoned them to, John turned to him. "Have you taken anything for that headache, or are you simply hoping that if you ignore as you do with most every other basic human need that it will simply disappear." "As ever John you are quite unaware of things going on around you, I simply was pondering the details of this latest case." The coolness of his voice indicated that this was the last Sherlock would address the issue at least for now and John knew that it was best to drop this issue for now. John knew from months of now living with Sherlock and information given to him by Mycroft on certain similar occasions that it was best never to push Sherlock. John continued to observe Sherlock as he worked. If Sherlock was in the amount of pain that John suspected that he was in, Sherlock was able to hide it well enough that John could only see miniscule signs. Even after they had made their way home. Sherlock was continuing to use any and all determination he had to prevent John from seeing the current pain that was coursing through his head. Although it might not have been clear to him before Sherlock was now quite sure that this pounding would soon turn into a full-blown migraine, he sighed to himself internally, John had not yet been present long enough to experience one of his migraines and to his deep regret there was only one person who he trusted enough to care for him. Sherlock debated in his head whether it was worth it for him to indeed contact his brother, however his decision seemed to be made for him after he began to lose visual acuity and he heard the door downstairs shut as John called out something to him about having to go to in to work, some last minute emergency or whatnot.

Mycroft Holmes was not surprisingly looking down at some dozen government documents that on the record did not exist. Trying to battle all of Britain's crises sometimes seemed a tad too exhausting, however it was indeed his job and it was indeed something that he did seem to excel at, more than likely due to the high intellect that he was gifted with, if only he thought Sherlock could use his intellect for similar interests. Lost in thought for a moment it did come as quite a shock to see his phone, ever present by his side, lit up with a text from the very brother that was the cause of his distraction.

**Migraine, meds needed, send at once if convenient-SH **

Mycroft sighed knowing that for Sherlock to break down and ask him for his assistance Sherlock must be having not only a migraine but one of the migraines that on rare occasions caused Sherlock's brain to completely shut down. Mycroft remembered that in their childhood, the first time Sherlock had ever had an attack this bad, Sherlock had ended up in the hospital, unable to deal with even the slightest noise, losing almost all vision, nauseous, shaky and quite unable to move for days upon end as pain for which there seemed to be no cure plagued his body over and over again. Then was the first time he ever truly feared for his brother, Mycroft had continued to monitor Sherlock the older he got. The attacks had gotten less frequent sometimes less in intensity and once or twice plaguing his brother with an even harsher pain then when he was a child. Mycroft knew two things at this point. One was that John must be out or Sherlock would not be resorting to texting him for help. Two was that whatever pain Sherlock was in at present it would be nothing compared to what he would feel if he was already requesting medication. He sent the text to Anthea, knowing that she would be able to get all of the necessary medication that he would need to care for his ailing brother. He looked down as his phone lit up once more signaling a response from her.

**Shall I proceed to cancel all your meetings for the next week, with plans to reschedule? –A**

Mycroft sent a quick response telling her to indeed proceed with the rescheduling of several important meetings, knowing many may be hard to reschedule but also knowing that his brother would need his continues presence for the next few days. After packing up any papers that would require his immediate attention, he set off for 221B Baker Street, hoping that his brother would still be able to move and survive the ride back to their family estate, which Mycroft still inhabited. Despite any argument Sherlock might make Mycroft knew that the near silence that he existed in here would be more useful to Sherlock's recovery.


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft sent a quick response telling her to indeed proceed with the rescheduling of several important meetings, knowing many may be hard to reschedule but also knowing that his brother would need his continues presence for the next few days. After packing up any papers that would require his immediate attention, he set off for 221B Baker Street, hoping that his brother would still be able to move and survive the ride back to their family estate, which Mycroft still inhabited. Despite any argument Sherlock might make Mycroft knew that the near silence that he existed in here would be more useful to Sherlock's recovery. It was after he had made all of the necessary precautions he set off in his car to 221B Baker Street.

Sherlock heard the buzz his phone made as it vibrated against his wooden night table. While Sherlock hoped that it was Mycroft agreeing to bring him medication that he so desperately was starting to require, it could have easily been Lestrade requesting his help on yet another case. Either way Sherlock was in no way capable of reaching over to get the phone and was now experiencing a blackout in his vision, that would prevented him from reading whatever text was awaiting him on his phone. He wasn't left wondering long, he had closed his eyes for only a moment it seemed, when he heard the door to 221B Baker Street Swing open and close gently behind whomever had just entered. Sherlock heard the ever-present clink of Mycroft's umbrella, which seemed to accompany his brother almost everywhere he went. Sherlock sighed in relief knowing the Mycroft would soon enter hopefully brining him the painkillers he so desperately.

Mycroft entered 221B Baker Street with the utmost caution, knowing that if Sherlock had reached just the start of this migraine episode that any noise he made would undoubtedly cause his brother a fresh stab of pain. Mycroft set his umbrella down near the door as he entered, he saw no sign of Sherlock in the main area or on the couch. It was with a heavy heart that he moved towards Sherlock's bedroom, fearful of what he might find. Although many people had indeed dubbed him the Iceman, he felt like anything but as concern for his younger sibling overwhelmed him. As he opened the door just a crack he could see Sherlock huddled on the far side of his bed, a pillow thrown over his head as he tried no doubt to block the pain that was coursing through him.

Sherlock cringed as a fresh wave of pain washed over him, no matter how hard Mycroft tried to be silent the clacking of his shoes on the wooden floor of 221B was in his mind just another cause of pain. He heard Mycroft open his bedroom door and enter as softly as he could. He waited for Mycroft to come over, but instead heard the feet retreating, at which he felt the slight bit of confusion, at least until the footsteps came closer to him. Mycroft removed the pillow from his head and replaced it with a cool compress, for which Sherlock at the moment was incredibly grateful. "Oh Sherlock, how on earth did you let it get this bad already?" Mycroft whispered, trying to cause he brother as little discomfort as possible. "Case" Sherlock mumbled. "Had to finish the case, pain wasn't bad then." Mycroft sighed, Sherlock had at least been in pain for a few hours. Based on Sherlock's lack of reply to his text Mycroft had the suspicion that his brother had already lost part if not all of his vision. However with Sherlock unable to move without a great deal of pain Mycroft thought it best to try and treat his brother's current symptoms first before any attempt was made to move him. Leaving Sherlock alone for the time being he quickly whipped out his phone to check with Anthea on when she would be able to procure the medication that he hoped would aid Sherlock's recovery, only to discover that she had already sent him a message saying that the package had been dropped off almost two minutes prior downstairs just inside the door of 221B. Mycroft felt a rush of gratitude, not that he would ever show it. The first round of medication would give Sherlock only a few hours of pain reduction but he did hope that in that window Sherlock would at least allow himself to be moved to their old family home. Once Mycroft had received the package from downstairs, he made his way once again into his younger brother's bedroom. Sherlock seemed to be going in and out of consciousness and Mycroft prepared the first injection and moved towards Sherlock. Mycroft watched at Sherlock stirred only slightly as the needle entered his arm. Mycroft proceeded to refresh the cool compress on his brother's forehead, noting with slight worry that Sherlock's forehead was slightly warm and clammy. Hoping that it was simply a result of the migraine and almost praying it was nothing more Mycroft moved out to living room to work on the documents he had brought with him and wait.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry I have taken so long to make an update, school and all. Anyway here is the third part. Hope you guys enjoy! **

**Also as a Disclaimer I don't own Sherlock or anything related. **

Mycroft watched at Sherlock stirred only slightly as the needle entered his arm. Mycroft proceeded to refresh the cool compress on his brother's forehead, noting with slight worry that Sherlock's forehead was slightly warm and clammy. Hoping that it was simply a result of the migraine and almost praying it was nothing more Mycroft moved out to living room to work on the documents he had brought with him and wait.

As the time passed Mycroft found himself struggling to keep his focus on the documents in front of him. Mycroft prized himself on not caring about anything or anyone it was one of the sole things that allowed him to exceed at his job, most of the time it was incredibly easy to not care, except for times like now. Sherlock seemed to always be able to make him care or at least worry. Mycroft found himself lost in thought; drifting back to the first few times he had been responsible for Sherlock's health during these episodes. When Mycroft had first received the call from Sherlock begging for his brothers help Mycroft had been young just starting out in government and as such quite incapable to take time off to tend to the trivial demands of his younger brother. It was at that time that Mycroft has learned that nothing about his brother asking for help would ever be trivial. Hours after receiving his brother's text, and ignoring it, Mycroft received a phone call alerting him to the fact that Sherlock was being admitted to Saint Barts hospital following episodes of Grand Mal seizure activity. Mycroft never forgave himself for that and vowed to always answer any text Sherlock sent him.

The second time that Mycroft found himself confronted with his brother's ills Sherlock had not contacted him at all. Mycroft had no indication what so ever that something was amiss with his little brother until once again he received a call from Saint Barts; Sherlock had been admitted for an overdose. That was the first time Mycroft learned about Sherlock's problem, as he put it. It was then that Mycroft learned that no matter how hard he tried he still cared about Sherlock. That experience had been the hardest thing Mycroft had experienced, he stayed bedside to his brother for the four days they kept Sherlock sedated while the drugs were purged from his system. Mycroft had watched as Sherlock seized twice and arrested once, never once leaving his brothers side. That was the time that Mycroft decided that if Sherlock could not be trusted by himself Mycroft must be the one to keep a watchful eye on his brother, to protect him from himself mostly, but also from any dangers that might beseech him, he was after all Sherlock Holmes the worlds only consulting detective.

Arousing Mycroft from his thoughts, a large thump was heard originating from Sherlock's room and Mycroft rose swiftly, fearful that his brother could be seizing or worse, and walked quickly to the room. Despite the near pitch black atmosphere inside the room Mycroft could make out his brother tangled in the sheets thrashing on the floor, not seizing, but caught in some hellish nightmare it appeared. Mycroft raced over and forcefully caught Sherlock's shoulder in an attempt to stop him thrashing.

"Sherlock! Sherlock!" Mycroft called several times hoping to wake his brother out of his current state. After the longest minute of Mycroft's life Sherlock finally stopped thrashing, though not coherent yet Sherlock's eyes travelled up to meet Mycroft's, met them briefly and then closed once again as agony swept over his body.

When Sherlock awoke he quickly became aware of several things very quickly. One was that he was no longer on his bed but seemed instead to have rolled off onto the floor. Two, the pain that had overtaken him earlier seemed to be dulled a bit; most likely due to the medication that Mycroft had injected him with earlier. Three, speaking of Mycroft Sherlock could feel his brother's firm hand on his shoulder as though trying to ground him. Sure enough as Sherlock opened his eyes in the dim light of the room Sherlock could just make out his brothers eyes, lined with worry, staring back at him. Sherlock groaned slightly as a harsh wave of pain washed over his head once again and he found himself feeling rather dizzy, his eyes closed once more as Sherlock tried, rather in vain, to gain control over his body.

As Sherlock stopped thrashing about, Mycroft let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Sherlock had met his eyes briefly before closing them again.

"Shall I aid you back into the bed? It would be much more comfortable than the floor I'm guessing." Sherlock merely grunted in response and allowed Mycroft to assist him back into his bed and propped him up against the pillows.

"Are you capable of moving at all? I do believe that it would be more beneficial for you and for me as well if you were to allow me to relocate you. There is a room all set up for you at the house, designed to block out all sensory input as well as capable of managing any medical crises that may arise."

"John can handle any medical crises, he is a doctor" Sherlock retorted quietly.

"Doctor Watson is a capable physician I have no doubt, however he does not have access to all of the devices and medications that you could possibly need. You need not worry I will have someone fill him in as to your whereabouts as well as start to inform him about your medical records should you ever feel the need to confide in him or seek his assistance."

Sherlock saw no further point in arguing with Mycroft, his brother seemed quite determined to take him away, and at this point Sherlock was feeling rather too exhausted to argue with him. Opening his eyes once more he gave Mycroft a slight nod, and in less than ten minutes he found himself in a car with Mycroft on his way to their family home.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock saw no further point in arguing with Mycroft, his brother seemed quite determined to take him away, and at this point Sherlock was feeling rather too exhausted to argue with him. Opening his eyes once more he gave Mycroft a slight nod, and in less than ten minutes he found himself in a car with Mycroft on his way to their family home.

When John returned to the flat later than evening, he noticed distinctly the lack of noise normally generated from Sherlock and an experiment of some sort. Remembering that Sherlock had appeared to have a headache earlier, no matter how much he had denied it, John wondered briefly if Sherlock might be lying down in his room. However just as the rest of the flat John found it silent and Sherlockless. He was just about to text Lestrade, perhaps another case had arisen, when heard a familiar voice behind him.

"He's not on a case John." The smooth voice of Anthea said from the doorway. Surprised John turned around, but Anthea was already coming up next to him, a folder in her hands. John didn't have time to ask where Sherlock was before Anthea spoke again.

"The folder has everything you need to know. Mycroft has requested that you look it over thoroughly before attempting to aid Sherlock. When you've finished reading it over he does request your presence at the following address, just call the number on the back of the card and a car will arrive to pick you up. Good Day John." Then just as quickly as she appeared she disappeared back down the stairs again.

John had to take a minute to process all that had just happened his mind racing through all sorts of dangerous scenarios that Mycroft could have Sherlock in before remembering that the folder he was now holding would supposedly give him the answers he was seeking. Folder in hand he moved to the desk and flipped it open. Expecting some sort of British Intelligence file or briefing John was surprised to find instead that he was staring down at what appeared to be Sherlock's medical file. Now filled with concern John, ignoring the file decided to text Mycroft instead.

**Why do I have Sherlock's medical file? –JW**

**To Read-MH**

**Mycroft, what's going on? -JW**

**Read the file John it explains everything because at the moment I lack time to. –MH**

Sensing the Mycroft would not be returning any more texts that John sent him; John sighed in exasperation and turned his attention to the file in front of him. Mercifully John noted Mycroft had marked all of the pages that required his attention, important facts were highlighted. As John was reading he quickly picked up on the central theme of all the marked pages: migraines. Well that would certainly explain why Sherlock had appeared to be in pain this morning, but why had Mycroft given him the file and more importantly why had Mycroft taken Sherlock away from Baker Street.

The further he read in the file the clearer in became. John read page after page of reports of Sherlock being hospitalized due to complications from the migraines. Complications that ranged from dehydration to seizures and an overdoes at one point. John set the folder back on the desk, taking a moment to pause and collect himself. This couldn't be the same Sherlock he lived with, the man who seemed never to need food or sleep. John simply couldn't picture Sherlock hooked up to IV's and monitors at hospitals, it just seemed so wrong and out of character. Then it clicked the reason why Sherlock was gone, the reason why Mycroft was involved, and John began to panic even more. Hospital he thought Sherlock must be in the hospital somewhere.

Not wanting to waste any time John went to grab the card next to the folder and proceeded to call the number on the back. It rang and a voice John had never heard answered the call, two minutes be outside of 221B Baker Street, and hung up. John grabbed the folder off the table, he would read it on the way, he grabbed his Jacket and proceeded downstairs where sure enough he saw a familiar black car pulling up to 221B. John didn't ask any questions when the car door was opened, but instead just got in and opened the file again to read on the way to where ever it was that Sherlock was being treated.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock woke up to darkness. There seemed to be no light in the room he was currently in, or at least that was what he hoped, since the alternative was that he was somehow completely blind. Sherlock could feel the pain still sharp and pounding in his head but at least slightly diminished from the wholly terror it had been earlier. Taking inventory Sherlock noted that his neck was tense, his whole body felt weak, like he couldn't move even if he wanted to, and he was feeling slightly chilled. Sighing he turned over trying to get comfortable again, then found himself getting frustrated when he realized that he was in no way able to go back to sleep. Sherlock sat up in the bed and debated trying to get up but quickly decided against the idea when he was hit with a rush of vertigo, which made him slightly nauseous. Sherlock laid back down on the bed, hoping that if he focused his mind would be able to take control of his body.

"You do know that it's best if you just rest, Sherlock it will be over soon enough." Sherlock turned and cursed silently to himself for not noticing his brother earlier.

"Have you been here this whole time?"

"Just recently actually, you've been asleep for quite some time, almost four hours now. How are you feeling?"

"I take it you've given me the second injection, my head pain although there has been reduced by some. There is neck tension, as a result of the migraine no doubt. I am finding sleep quite elusive at the moment which is frustrating since my body is feeling quite weak."

"Are you going to mention the vertigo as you sat up or should I since you don't appear to want to admit it?

"Simple postural hypotension, nothing more."

"I'm sure" Mycroft voice was filled with sarcasm, and Sherlock didn't need to see his face to know that his eyebrows were raised. "Whatever the reason I still have Dr. Sangushi waiting outside, she is waiting to examine you. I had her do a preliminary when you got here, however I am sure she would feel much better about giving you an exam when you're conscious. Are you feeling well enough to submit to an examination at the moment or do you need a moment to compose yourself?"

Sherlock simply nodded and closed his eyes again. He heard Mycroft move to the door and in a moment he heard the distinctive gait of Dr. Sangushi coming in the room. Obviously having spoken to Mycroft, and still being conscious of Sherlock's pain moved to his bed silently, and began taking Sherlock's vitals. This was the part of Mycroft's treatment plan that Sherlock disliked the most. The touching, the lights being flashed in his eyes, it just made the pain worse. After minutes, that seemed like hours to Sherlock the poking and prodding decreased and he heard the footsteps going out of the room and into the hall to meet Mycroft.

"The pain seems to be well controlled with the injections, although it is still rather intense from what I can tell. He was looking rather pallid, his pulse is slightly high, but that could just be a response to the pain. As you suspected his blood pressure is low, and we do need to watch out for any seizure activity or stroke activity in the next few days, his pupils are equal and responsive, although the left one is slightly sluggish. Also his temperature is concerning me, it is 38 which is high for him, and his temperature does not normally increase when he is experiencing migraines. We will keep monitoring it closely for the next few hours and I will give him some medication to get it down now, and hopefully that will take care of it." The report was quick and professional; exactly the reason Mycroft preferred her.

"Very well, thank you ."

She nodded curtly, and walked down the hall back to her guest room where Mycroft had set her up for the week. Mycroft passed her notes onto the staff he had monitoring Sherlock and watched briefly as they went to work. Mean while Anthea had sent him a text that he only now was getting around to looking at.

**File was given to , I expect he will be texting you soon. I am on my way back to the office now. –A**

Mycroft slid his phone back into his pocket wondering just how far John would get into reading Sherlock's medical file before panic set in and John would text him frantically. Mycroft moved back into his home office to wait, soon enough John would text him and not long after that John would arrive hear desperate to help and then Mycroft would have to deal with yet another new person to Sherlock's case yet again. Sighing to himself he had just opened one of many files on his desk when his phone buzzed lightly in his pocket. Smiling gently to himself Mycroft pulled his phone out and began answering John's texts.


	6. Chapter 6

**Here we go Part 6, just a little bit of conversation between John and Mycoft. Hope you guys enjoy!. Also a huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed this, reviews really inspire me to write more!**

John hardly noticed that the car had slowed; he was far too engrossed in the file he held in his hand. The ride over had been long and John was sure he had read the page he was on at least twice already, but John was determined to prove to Mycroft that he had been through when reading the file. Mycroft already had the world's foremost migraine specialist as Sherlock's doctor, which given Mycroft's position, John wasn't surprised by. He worried though that Mycroft would be hesitant to let John work on his brother. Sure Mycroft trusted him to watch out for Sherlock on a day to day basis, but one thing John had noticed when reading the file was that anytime a doctor had failed to aid Sherlock, their name had never been seen in the file again. Disrupting John's thought process the door was opened and John looked outside at a lavish mansion. John shook his head lightly to himself, and followed one of the many workers that Mycroft had sent to collect him up to the house and followed him until he stopped and pointed John towards a room at the end of the hallway.

John moved past him and knocked on the door, before entering. Mycroft was sitting at the long end of a table, working on what was no doubt some secret government project.

"Sit down John." Mycroft gestured to one of the many chairs that surrounded the table. John as always when he was around Mycroft felt that somehow sitting down was the last thing Mycroft really wanted him to do.

"Where is he Mycroft? What've you done with him?"

"Always so forceful John, the result of being a soldier no doubt." Mycroft rose from his place at the table and crossed over to John.

"He's here, he's resting for the moment." Mycroft moved to stare out the window as he spoke. "I'm assuming you read the file then."

" I did." John was unsure of where Mycroft was heading.

"I'm sure you have questions John."

"Why didn't you tell me about these before Mycroft I could have helped him earlier."

"Could you though really? Sherlock waited until he couldn't see before he texted me. He's not one to ask for help John, and he refuses any and all help until he's already far too weak to resist. You've seen all that already though, you live with him; you've read the file. You wonder why I worry about him constantly, it's because he gives me reason to."

"When did you start worrying though it seems to me from reading the file it wasn't until the first seizure or even the overdose that you really started to care." The words were out of John's mouth before he could stop them. Mycroft's mouth was pressed into a firm line.

"We all make mistakes John, with Sherlock I've made more than most, I'm not proud of that but that's the way it is." Mycroft's voice changed as he spoke, the coolness that he normally spoke with was gone. It was replaced by something much different a heaviness, a tone filled with guilt and hurt. John felt overwhelmed in this moment, one of the rare moments where a Holmes felt emotion, it felt like John was intruding on some secret moment, and so he stood there unsure of what to do and waited until Mycroft spoke again.

"You'd like to see him I suppose?"

"I don't have to I mean if he's resting, looking at that file I'm guessing he needs all the rest he can get."

"He did earlier, although I rather doubt he can sleep right now. He isn't due for another injection for an hour at least. I was rather hoping that he would sleep until then but no such luck; he woke about thirty minutes ago. Preliminary examination revealed moderate pain, increasing as the medication wears off, his pulse was high but not alarming as of yet, his blood pressure was low and he had a fever of 38 ."

"Fever's rare for a migraine isn't it?" John asked worriedly.

"Indeed, although Dr. Sangushi does not believe that there is reason for worry yet. We are monitoring it now, she gave him Paracetamol twenty five minutes ago to reduce it." Mycroft stated almost absent mindedly as he paced. John was about to ask him more questions when the door opened again, an older woman who John guessed had a normally kind face poked her head in the door. John could see the worry in her face before her mouth had even opened. She looked at John, with a confused expression and then to Mycroft. Mycroft simply nodded at her and she came fully into the room.

"Dr. Sangushi, meet Dr. John Watson." She stepped forward and shook John's hand. Exchanging quick pleasantries with him before turning to face Mycroft.

"He's not keeping down the medication, we've started an IV, and he seems to be responding well to it. There are slight indicators of some convulsions but for now they are confined to his hand. We have someone in the room monitoring him now."

Mycroft nodded, thanking her and he and John watched as she left the room. Mycroft moved to follow her but stopped as he realized that John hadn't moved.

"Do come along John, he has been asking for you already today, and he tends to become even more fragile, the worse it gets. Although you'll never get him to admit to it." John smiled lightly at that thought, and followed Mycroft down the hall.


	7. Chapter 7

Sherlock knew that this was hell quite literally; he could hardly keep track of everything he was feeling. Pain was quite obviously the front-runner pounding through his head, like a sledgehammer against his skull. He couldn't move, couldn't think. Dully he could hear people coming into the room but he couldn't make out what they were saying. At that moment Sherlock was hit with a particularly vicious strain of nausea, he lurched over the side of the bed, groaning as he felt the bile pass through his throat. _Not good._ The one coherent thought that Sherlock was capable of having ran through his head. It was now when he was no control over his body, over anything that was when his body truly betrayed him. Seizures, Mycroft had always told him that he was prone to seizures when he was in the throws over his migraines, based on the convulsion he could feel in his arms Sherlock was positive that he would soon be in the throws of seizures. He barely felt the prick of needle being stuck into his arm as people held him down. It took just a moment before Sherlock could feel the effects of the drugs rushing into his arms. He felt briefly grateful before he allowed himself to drift off into the drug-induced darkness.

John sat with Mycroft in a little alcove just to the side of Sherlock's room. They sat together in silence. Mycroft seemed lost in thought as he stared towards Sherlock's sleeping form. John watched the IV drugs drip slowly in Sherlock's arms. John had never felt so antsy. He had never felt so useless, not even when he was in Afghanistan. Sherlock was pale, breathing in and out gently but with a slight rasp. He was hooked up to a monitor now, John watched his heart rate consistent now, and they also had him hooked up to an EEG to watch his brain activity. Time seemed to slow the longer they sat there. Mycroft moved occasionally to answer a text, but for the most part seemed content to sit there and stand guard over his brother. The relationship between them confounded John; he was never able to comprehend how they couldn't ever just agree to help each other. Mycroft really did care about his brother it was obvious by the worry all over his face. Mycroft looked away from Sherlock briefly as his phone went off again.

"I am afraid John, that a matter has arisen that requires my immediate attention. I do trust that you and Doctor Sangushi will be able to care for Sherlock in my absence. I will return as soon as I can."

"Of course"

Mycroft left the room and John saw him meet Anthea just outside the door. He watched them go down the hall talking back and forth until the door was shut once again. Somehow with Mycroft gone, John felt more at ease. He stood up and moved around the bed to get a closer look at Sherlock. The doctor inside him was worried with what he saw. Sherlock was pale, paler than John had ever seen him, his cheeks were flushed with fever. Looking down at him now John could see why Mycroft looked concerned every time he looked at Sherlock. Sherlock looked younger now, and more fragile than John had ever seen him. Briefly he wondered if Mycroft saw the change, saw how young and vulnerable Sherlock was. Lost in his thoughts John only turned when he heard a knock at the door and John saw Dr. Sangushi walk into the room, a needle in her hand.

"It's time for his next injection." She said quietly.

"It's not in his IV mixture?" John asked curiously.

"There are pain killers in the mixtures, but this medication is far too potent to be in IV form. Now if you'll excuse me." John stepped aside and watched as she injected the medication into Sherlock's arm. Sherlock didn't even stir as the drugs entered his system.

"Is he sedated?" John asked the thought just now crossing his mind.

"Mr. Holmes thought it would be best if he slept through this part of the migraine. We can give him pain medication, but even with everything we give him he's still in pain, he still is overly sensitive to stimuli."

"What was that exactly that you've given him?" John nodded at the empty syringe in her hands, realizing that nowhere in the medical file had it ever really explained what it was.

"It's not anything you will recognize, it's not anything available on the market per se. It's an experimental drug that is used to limit excess brain activity; it was designed to block pain receptors in the brain, to limit the chance of seizure activity. It's only been tested a few times, but nowhere near enough to be declared safe for the market."

"But somehow it's safe for Sherlock to take?" John asked slightly incredulous.

"He has been treated with it for a few years now and has never shown any side effects, besides it is the only thing we've found so far that seems to make any difference for him at all."

"And just how long have you been treating Sherlock?" John asked trying to remember what it said in the file.

"Almost twelve years now." She smiled gently at John. "Started seeing him when he was quite young, that brother of his found me. I've been specializing in migraine treatment for thirty years now, and apparently they needed specialized help on his case. I still remember the first time I treated him, I'd never seen someone so young in so much pain. It took him a long while before he trusted me though, very aggressive youngster he was. Eventually though he let me in, been working with him ever since." She looked as though she might continue, but paused as a phone buzzed from inside her pocket.

"If you'll excuse me Dr. Watson, I need to step outside for a moment." John had a sneaking suspicion that Mycroft had been behind the text she had received. Turning back to Sherlock, John frowned when he saw that the flush of his cheeks looked deeper than it had earlier. Careful not to jostle Sherlock in anyway John proceeded to place his hand on Sherlock's forehead, he drew it back quickly however when he felt the heat radiating from it. Worried he moved towards the door, once outside Sherlock's room, John looked around trying to determine where it was that Dr. Sangushi had disappeared to. Scanning the hallway and seeing no sign, he was about to go find someone to ask, when she came back around the corner.

"Dr. Watson, can I help you?" Then seeing his expression she moved swiftly down the hall to join him.

"What's happened?"

"That fever he had earlier, I'd dare to say it's risen above 38 ." Dr. Sangushi motioned to a nurse that had appeared behind John.

"It doesn't make sense he's never had fevers as a response to migraines before, there's no reason for this to be happening." She spoke half to John and half to herself. John made a motion to move back into Sherlock's room, when he felt Dr. Sangushi's hand on his shoulder.

"We're better off waiting for confirmation, Jenna will be out momentarily." Sure enough, the nurse called Jenna had reemerged from Sherlock's room, she turned towards them both.

"39 "

Dr. Sangushi nodded, indicating that she heard what Jenna had said.

"A cold compress, and a bowl with cool water, fetch it now." Dr. Sangushi told the girl exactly what to fetch, and then motioned for John to follow her into Sherlock's room.

"We'll have to increase the dosage we are giving him. Also I'm going to lighten his sedation, something else is going on here and you and I both know that we can't treat him unless we know exactly what." John watched as she adjusted the dosages on the medication.

"Watch him, will you. I must go inform Mr. Holmes of this development. The sedation should wear off in about fifteen minutes. If he wakes up before then do try and get him talking, the faster we figure out what's causing the fever, the faster we can fix him." With that she left the room once more pulling her phone out of her pocket as she left. John sighed and pulled one of the chairs over to Sherlock's bedside. _Sherlock, what have you done?_ John wondered to himself. John sat back, and waited, he only hoped that his friend would start to feel better soon.


	8. Chapter 8

**Apologies that it took so long to get this up here, and another apology that it is so short. I will be trying to post at least one more chapter this weekend. Thanks again for those people who have reviewed! Hope you guys enjoy!**

Waiting for Sherlock to wake up seemed to take hours instead of minutes, as the effects of the sedation wore off John could see Sherlock becoming more and more distressed. He had tried to speak to him, to get him talking but both times he had tried Sherlock had responded only with murmurs of pain. As John looked down at his watch to see how much time had passed, Mycroft once again strode into the room, followed by Dr. Sangushi.

"Any change?" Dr. Sangushi asked John.

"Nothing yet." John replied and moved out of the way as moved closer to Sherlock to check his vitals. All the while Mycroft remained silent and stoic and the end of Sherlock's bed. John thought about offering Mycroft the chair he had just vacated so that he could be closer to his brother, but thought better of it. If Mycroft wanted to move closer to his brother he would have already done it. It was times like this when John wondered if Mycroft's habit of staying at a distance was somehow his way of controlling his emotions, of not caring so much. In John's opinion it was utterly ridiculous, but both Mycroft and Sherlock seemed to pride themselves on their ability to function without caring. Both men seemed to uphold this philosophy very well except when it came to each other. John used to think the worry lines visible on Mycroft's face were from the constant stress of his position in the government, but after observing him for the last few hours, John was now sure that they were caused by worry he had for Sherlock.

Sherlock groaned softly as he realized that the noises in the room were still unnaturally loud to him, he also realized that he could hear the breathing patterns of at least three individuals. Fearful of any more pain Sherlock kept his eyes shut and tried to rely on his other senses to help him deduce the identities of the people, however he found, much to his annoyance that his nose seemed rather congested. Groaning internally he realized that he would eventually need to open his eyes and figure out why Mycroft and Dr. Sangushi weren't keeping him sedated like they normally did, during the pain part of his migraines. Blearily he opened his eyes and mercifully the room was still dark enough to prevent stabbing pain. Looking to his left first, he was able to make out the distinct figure of , fiddling around with his i.v's. John appeared to be standing off the side, and next to him, of course was Mycroft. It was Mycroft who noticed his return to consciousness first.

"Dr. Sangushi, he's awake." Mycroft said with as little emotion as he could. Sherlock tried to make out the look on his brother's face. Something in his tone wasn't right, it wasn't the calm, emotionless droll that Sherlock had come to expect from his brother. He tried in vain, to meet Mycroft's eyes in the hope of finding an explanation, but found that the room was simply too dark for him to see that far.

The voice of Dr. Sangushi pulled him out of his reverie, and he turned to face her. From the look on her face, Sherlock deduced that she had clearly just asked him a question that he was now failing to answer.

Judging from the slightly uncomprehending look and silence that Sherlock was giving her she was fairly confidant he hadn't heard her. She tried again, "Sherlock, can you hear me, do you understand me?" This time he gave a brief nod, and she smiled slightly in relief.

"Sherlock, you have a fever, and it's high, higher than it should be I need to know did you take anything, anything at all that could be interacting with your medication?"

Sherlock seemed to pause for a moment, she could practically see him thinking. It took him a moment before he finally responded.

"Beechams, I took Beechams two days ago, felt like I had a slight fever."

"Ok, Sherlock good that's good, now I know you want to go back to sleep, but I just need to perform a quick exam before you do." Sherlock nodded and she watched, as he seemed to struggle to keep his eyes open. Knowing that Sherlock had already been feeling ill, even before the migraine told her a great deal. The exam that she gave was much more physical than the one she had given him when Mycroft had first brought him here. She listened to his chest, looked at his ears and nose, and pressed ever so gently on his sinuses, removing the pressure quickly when Sherlock grimaced in pain as a response.

"Ok Sherlock, you're doing really well, I'm going to go ahead and increase your sedation again." She doubted he was paying her any attention anymore as his eyes were closed once more.

"Doctor Watson, if I may have a word with you outside?" She gave him a look that she hoped would convey to him that it wasn't really an option. He must have understood because he simply nodded and followed her out of the room, leaving Mycroft standing watch over his brother.


	9. Chapter 9

**So here is the next installment. I didn't mean for it to take so long but it took me a while to feel as though I was getting anywhere close to the right characterization for Mycroft. As always I own nothing and I hope you guys enjoy this part. **

Mycroft hated to see his brother so listless, it went against everything that Sherlock normally was. Even as a child Mycroft could never remember Sherlock staying still for long. Except when he was suffering through a particularly bad migraine. Although Mycroft had been gone for the majority of Sherlock's childhood migraines he could still remember one or two particularly troublesome ones that he had witnessed. Each time he could remember Sherlock crying out in pain trying to find someway to stop the pain. Mycroft used to watch as his mother would take Sherlock's head in her hands and place her fingers strategically over pressure points to eliminate some of Sherlock's pain.

As a quiet cough from Sherlock interrupted Mycroft's thoughts, Mycroft moved towards the chair that John had vacated earlier. Despite the sedation, and the fact that his brother's eyes were closed Mycroft could tell that his brother was not yet unconscious. Noticing that sometime earlier a water glass had been placed by Sherlock's bedside, Mycroft grabbed the cup and turned back towards Sherlock.

"Sherlock, I'm quite aware of the fact that you are not yet sleeping. I have water here, I do believe that it would be most beneficial if you took at least a few sips."

Sherlock merely grunted in response before turning over to face his brother.

"No water, it'll just make me vomit again."

"Sherlock, you fail to realize this isn't a discussion. You have a fever of over 38 . You do have an i.v to replace your fluids, but you need to drink the water as well."

Sherlock contemplated this for a moment before he conceded and took the water out of Mycroft's hands and took a few small sips. Mycroft although he would never show it externally, was quite relieved that his brother was at least still sensible. He could remember times when Sherlock was younger where he would be ill for far longer than had been necessary simply because he had refused to take medicine or rest at all. Unbeknownst to him as he thought of his brother worry lines became ever more prominent.

"For god's sake Mycroft go deal with whatever crisis it is that is so worrisome. I'm going to get worry lines just looking at you."

Sherlock's voice however subdued and weak still held plenty of exasperation and contempt. Mycroft could of course have corrected his brother's flawed thinking, but then of course he would have to admit to Sherlock that he cared, and such an admission of sentiment was of course quite unacceptable. Instead of responding Mycroft simply nodded, grabbed his umbrella from the end of the bed where it was resting and moved out into the hallway.

John and Dr. Sangushi were discussing treatment options just outside the door. Mycroft gave a curt nod to Dr. Sangushi, indicating that she and John should proceed with treating Sherlock. Anthea greeted him at the end of the hallway, she began listing all the pressing matters that Mycroft should be dealing with. However seeing the lack of interest in her boss's face Anthea could tell that his mind was nowhere near where it needed to be. Mycroft turned and headed towards his office. Anthea paused before deciding that it was best not to follow him, she turned and instead began calling other members of the British government who could handle any impending crisis's until Mycroft had his proper head on again.

If Sherlock was being completely honest with himself he would admit that he had been slightly disappointed when Mycroft left the room. Despite knowing that his brother's duties would far outweigh any moral duty Mycroft felt to be here, Sherlock had hoped that his brother would stay with him for at least a little while longer. Sherlock hated being sick for reasons like this, he was experiencing sentiment, emotions of longing and cravings of comfort that were most unlike him. He deduced that it must be the fever, causing his thoughts to become so normal. Logically he knew that Dr. Sangushi and John were a more than capable medical team, however currently he wanted nothing more than Mycroft by his bed, watching over him with the same exasperated look that Sherlock had often received from his brother in their youth. Sherlock found himself yawning now as the sedatives Dr. Sangushi had given him started to kick back in. Yawning again he found himself allowing himself to drift off into the drug induced serenity.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey everybody, ok so I am back with the next part. I'm hoping you guys like this next part. As ever I own nothing related to Sherlock, and I love reviews! Enjoy!**

Mycroft sat alone in his office, Anthea had dropped off a cup of tea for him a few moments earlier. He had simply given her a nod and she had disappeared. He sighed as he felt the muscles in his neck tensing up, even more so than they usually did. Sherlock was quite infuriating at the moment, Mycroft knew logically that Sherlock's logic and much more importantly his deductive skills were severely compromised at the moment, however Mycroft had hoped that Sherlock would have been able to ascertain the tone of worry that Mycroft had when speaking to him. It was no matter now. Mycroft briefly thought about calling Anthea back in the room and asking for the top priority files that he knew he should be working on. He quickly dismissed this thought as he felt his neck muscles tighten again, there was a tightness around the base of his neck that was currently working its way up to his forehead. Normally Mycroft was able to work through his tension headaches, however just this once he decided to follow Anthea's not so subtle hints, and take the next hour or two to simply relax. Glad that he could trust that Sherlock was in the capable hands of Dr. Sangushi and John, he took a sip of the steaming tea in front of him, and closed his eyes, pondering just how vulnerable sentiment made him.

John sat watch over Sherlock for the next few hours. John found himself nodding off at various times but kept jerking back awake. After all it was John's fault that Sherlock had gotten this ill. He was a doctor for god's sake, and yet he hadn't even realized that his own flat mate was ill. John supposed that even if he had noticed, he wouldn't have been able to get Sherlock to rest. Mycroft had mentioned to John earlier that Sherlock had always been extremely stubborn when it came to his health. John was pondering this when the door creaked open and Dr. Sangushi entered the room.

"Any change?" She asked quietly moving past John to examine Sherlock's current EEG readings.

"He hasn't moved, in an hour or two. He seemed a little restless when I first came in.." John paused momentarily to glance down at his watch. "five hours ago?!"

Dr. Sangushi, chuckled softly at John's tone of surprise. "About five yes, and judging how you look, I'm guessing you haven't slept at all, you're looking a bit worn out.

John nodded sheepishly, much like he used to do when he had gotten in trouble in primary school. "I nodded off a few times earlier, but I woke up after a few moments, didn't want miss anything if he woke up."

Dr. Sangushi laughed to herself. "With all the medication in his i.v, I doubt much could wake him right now."

John nodded absent mindedly, sitting alone he hadn't realized how tired he truly was, but trying to keep up with Dr. Sangushi's conversation was proving a difficult challenged for John's sleep deprived mind.

"You know I'm sure that you could find a room somewhere to nap for a few hours, if you want that is. Sherlock's EEG shows that he is still in significant pain, and I'll be keeping him sedated for four more hours at least."

She turned towards John as she finished with Sherlock's EEG results. He looked like he was about to protest, but she interjected before he had the chance.

"No arguments doctor Watson, we've got plenty of people who can monitor Sherlock's condition while you get a bit of rest. I've slept for a few hours already, I do promise that I'll come and inform you myself if there is any change in his condition."

Sensing that no matter what he said, he would still find himself on the losing side of the argument John simply nodded and moved towards the door and out into the hallway. The first thing he noticed was how much brighter the hallway seemed, after being in the darkness of Sherlock's room for so long. The second thing he noticed was that most unsurprisingly Anthea was walking towards him, with what looked like a pair of his pajamas. After so many months of dealing with Mycroft and his apparent omniscience John and learned to stop asking and simply accept anything Mycroft did.

"Doctor Watson, if you'll follow me this way there is a room set up for you just around the corner."

John followed her around the corner until she stopped at a door halfway down the hall. Wordlessly she handed John the pajamas she held in her hand, and opened the door. John walked in and set his pajamas down on the end of the bed and turned back towards the door, where Anthea was still standing.

"The bathroom is through that door." Anthea said pointing to a door John hadn't even noticed.

"You'll find it has already been stocked with everything you should require. However should you need anything not found in the room, most anyone you can find should be able to locate it for you. Goodnight doctor Watson."

With that she was gone again, shutting the door behind her as she left. John turned back towards the, in his opinion enormous, bed and grabbed his pajamas before heading into the bathroom to change. He emerged several minutes later in awe of everything he had found in the bathroom. Finally trusting that Sherlock would indeed be fine without him for an hour or two, John pulled back the covers of the bed, turned off the lights, and finally allowed himself to rest.


	11. Chapter 11

**Okay, everyone next part! I am hoping that you guys will enjoy this chapter as well. Anthea is a hard character to write but I did try my best to keep her in character. As always I own nothing, and happy reading!**

When Sherlock awoke the next time, the first thing he noticed was that mercifully his headache was significantly dulled down, although whether that was due to the I.V in his arm, or the fact that the migraine was working itself to an end was yet to be determined. Sherlock pushed himself into a sitting position on the bed and looked over to the end of the bed where John had been sitting earlier. However it wasn't John who currently sitting at the end of his bed, curiously enough Sherlock found himself staring at Anthea. She however was not staring back at him, she seemed immersed in typing out what sounded like a novel on her phone. Sherlock cleared his throat to get her attention, but she simply held up her finger, signaling him to wait.

"Both your brother and Dr. Sangushi have been informed that you are awake. I imagine that Dr. Sangushi will be in momentarily to check on your status. Your brother has requested that in the absence of both himself and Dr. Watson I remain here to oversee your condition, and before you ask both your brother and Dr. Watson are still in the vicinity, but both find themselves incapacitated at the moment."

She paused briefly to look up at him.

"Any more questions Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock muttered something about spending too much time with Mycroft under his breath, but said nothing in response. Anthea smiled back at him before returning to her mobile. Right on cue it seemed the door opened gently and Dr. Sangushi entered the room.

"Feeling better then, are we Sherlock? You woke up earlier than I would have thought, I only began to lighten your sedation half an hour ago."

Sherlock said nothing but gave a curt nod. He then allowed himself to be poked and prodded and Dr. Sangushi conducted her examination. Although rather annoyed by having her light flashed in his eyes, Sherlock relished in the fact that it was no longer causing him stabbing pain. When she had finished examining him, she turned to look at the screens currently showing his vitals. Sherlock closed his eyes at that point, it was unlikely she would need him for anything else, and he still felt so tired for some reason. Sherlock was about to dismiss it as the fact that he still had a sedative flowing into his body, however light it was, when he heard Dr. Sangushi turn and talk directly to Anthea.

"You can tell him the migraine is passed its peak, he's moving into the last stage now. Fever has decreased a bit as well, I'm still giving him medication to keep him hydrated, and to decrease any nausea he may be experiencing. I'll check again in a hour or two, but for now it's best to just let him rest."

"Thank you doctor."

Anthea's voice was curt and businesslike, Sherlock noted how she sounded just like Mycroft when he was distracted. Sherlock could hardly blame her, if Mycroft was truly incapacitated, with one of his stress headaches no doubt, England was probably falling to pieces as she typed. He waited until Dr. Sangushi had gone back out into the hallway before he spoke again.

"You can tell Mycroft I don't need a babysitter."

"He told me you'd say that. He also told me to tell you that there's no point in attempting to argue the fact that if neither he nor Dr. Watson are present the job falls to my ever so capable hands."

Sherlock groaned typical Mycroft, always in control and always with a plan. Sensing there was little use in trying to convince her to let him rest in private, Sherlock rolled onto his side trying to find a comfortable position.

Despite the fact that his body was still tired his mind was not. Sherlock found himself thinking about everything he could remember before the migraine, anything that could help him remember why he supposedly had a fever. He remembered a case he had been working on for Lestrade, it had been remarkably simple, something about a robbery gone wrong. Sherlock had almost been bored by it, but then again if the police could solve all the simple cases they wouldn't need Sherlock.

Sighing as he realized that his normally near perfect recall was failing him Sherlock took an inventory of how he felt, hoping that he would find some clues. The pain in his head was dull, simply the remnants of the migraine. Overall his body felt tired and rather achy, it could have been the aftereffects of a seizure, or it could be related his current ailment. Sherlock did note that he could feel the rather unpleasant effects of what he guessed to be a moderate fever. He felt a strong desire to wrap himself in the blankets to contain his warmth and battle the chills he was experiencing, however at the same time he could feel the uncomfortable stick that accompanied trying to sweat out a fever. Dr. Sangushi had mentioned something about him being nauseous although Sherlock was not feeling tremendously nauseated at the moment. Sherlock sighed more than likely he had picked up some sort of stomach bug, he hoped that in however long he had been sedated, he had managed to sleep through most of the symptoms.

As Sherlock's brain continued to recall various facts, Sherlock shifted uncomfortably in the bed. Even though he knew that all he had to do was ask for more sedation, he resisted. After he was through the worst parts of his migraines he often began refusing more medication. After his first overdose, Sherlock had avoided any drugs legal or not. The migraines he'd had after that had been hell, and a constant reminder to Sherlock of how weak he had been. It was his third or fourth migraine after his overdose that Mycroft had finally intervened, bringing him pain medication, attempting to give it to Sherlock and Sherlock had fought him every step of the way. By the time that Sherlock finally gave in, Mycroft had assured him that he had been incapable of forming any coherent phrasing. All Sherlock remembered was the moment when the burning pain had been dulled ever so slightly. The problem with such medication was that had Mycroft not been there by his side for the three days duration Sherlock would have given in to his desires, he would have been weak, but Mycroft had been there hour after hour talking him through his jumbled thoughts, giving him only as much pain medication as was absolutely necessary.

Now with his fever causing him to be restless and anxious Sherlock's fears were surfacing again. When Dr. Sangushi entered the room once again, a syringe in her hand, Sherlock couldn't contain his fears. He refused the sedation vehemently, threatening to pull out his I.V several times in the process. He felt only slight relief as both she and Anthea exited the room, leaving him to suffer in silence and blissfully alone.

Sensing that Sherlock was not falling back asleep, Anthea proceeded to text Dr. Sangushi, requesting that Sherlock be given some more sedative. However when Dr. Sangushi entered the room and attempted to increase Sherlock's sedation he protested. Anthea had seen this reaction once before from Sherlock. The first time he had gotten a migraine after his overdose, she had watched as he blatantly refused the medication Mycroft was attempting to give him. Anthea sighed internally, as much as she didn't want to disturb Mycroft he seemed to be the only one who could deal with Sherlock when he reached this stage. After giving Dr. Sangushi a knowing look, both women exited the room leaving Sherlock alone for the time being. Once they were out in the hall Dr. Sangushi handed Anthea a syringe.

"All he has to do is inject this into the I.V line."

Anthea nodded and syringe in hand went to go and rouse her boss.

"One more thing." Dr. Sangushi called after her. "Wish him luck."


	12. Chapter 12

**So I just felt like I should crank this chapter out before the weekend hit. It is probably a little out of character but I hope it is still believable. As always I own nothing, hope you guys enjoy and I love it when you guys give me reviews. (hint hint) Here you go!**

Mycroft checked his phone once again, Anthea had sent him a message only a few minutes earlier alerting him to the fact that his brother was once again awake and supposedly much more coherent than he had been earlier. Mycroft was expecting another text from her, relaying to him the results of Dr. Sangushi's examination of Sherlock, but his phone remained silent. Anthea had taken his phone from him earlier, giving him a look that he had come to know meant _you know that if you keep working your headache will never get any better_, and Mycroft had rather hesitantly given it to her. She had only returned it to him after he had slept for a few hours, and after she was fairly confident that her boss's pain had been reduced to a much more manageable level. Mycroft was still feeling far from his normal self, but such was the result of dealing with Sherlock. Anthea had taken over crisis management for the time being and Mycroft was grateful. Britain could handle being on its own for a while.

Sitting on the table next to where Mycroft was sitting was a bowl of soup he assumed that Anthea had brought in earlier, still hot and relatively untouched. While Mycroft's stress headaches were nothing compared to his brothers migraines they still had the unpleasant side effect of making him slightly nauseated. Instead Mycroft reached for the teacup that seemed to have been refilled recently as well and took a small sip. As he set the tea back down he was about to reach for his phone and ask Anthea what could possibly be taking so long but a gentle knock at the door interrupted him.

Anthea walked through the door calmly and confidently as she made her way over to where Mycroft was sitting.

"Dr. Sangushi's preliminary examination of your brother indicates that he is on the mend. She says he is through the worst parts of his migraine, and his fever is down a bit."

Anthea gave him the report without once looking directly at him. Mycroft didn't need to be at his peak to see that she was holding back something from him. He waited for a moment to see if she would continue but she remained silent, and continued to avoid eye contact.

"It's not difficult for me to tell when you're holding back information, no matter how incapable you have deemed me to be at the present. What is it?"

Anthea said nothing but stretched out her hand to pass something to Mycroft. Mycroft's stomach dropped as he recognized the object, in a manner that had nothing to do with his stress headache. Anthea had passed him a syringe, one that Mycroft had recognized almost immediately. It was the sedative that Dr. Sangushi gave to Sherlock to help him quiet his mind as his body recovered from the effects of the migraine. Given that Sherlock was ill as well Mycroft had no doubt that his brother's body was in great need of rest, and if Anthea was giving this to him it could only mean that his brother was refusing the medication. Mycroft sighed to himself, after Sherlock had his first overdose he had developed certain aversions to taking medication if he deemed it unnecessary. Few people understood Sherlock's reasoning, and therefore few people could deal with him.

"He's awake now?" Mycroft said half as a statement, half as a question.

"He is, Dr. Sangushi tried multiple times to get him to consent, and he threatened to rip out his I.V and leave. She believes that the fever might be making him worse. We didn't want to disturb you, however she believes that he is quite in need of the medication."

"Ah."

Mycroft rose to his feet, and straightened his shirt. He gave Anthea a curt nod and moved past her to the door.

"Sir," Anthea called after him. "She told me to wish you good luck."

Sherlock was sitting up in the bed after failing to get comfortable in any position where he was laying down. He wasn't sure how long it had been since Anthea and Dr. Sangushi had vacated the room, but he was quite confident in the fact that both of them leaving meant that he would be receiving a visit from his brother relatively soon. No doubt Mycroft would attempt to give him the sedation that he had already blatantly refused. Right on time Sherlock turned as he heard the door open, and Mycroft met his eyes as he entered the room, before Sherlock noticed the syringe he held in his hand.

"I've already told Dr. Sangushi that I'm not taking that Mycroft. I can't" Sherlock said as Mycroft moved to sit in the chair that was next to his bed. The last part of his statement was quiet, and he refused to meet Mycroft's gaze as he said it.

"We've been over this Sherlock, time and time again if you recall."

"All it takes is one time Mycroft, one time when you're not here and I'll slip back into old habits."

Sherlock's voice was full of something Mycroft hadn't heard in a long time. Sherlock sounded fearful, and Mycroft could see his brothers fear in his face. Sherlock looked vulnerable, and Mycroft could see why Dr. Sangushi had been quick to blame the fever. Sherlock was normally much more logical in his argument, this fearful Sherlock, was quite uncharacteristic. Mycroft didn't have to look at the monitors to see that his brother still had quite the fever. Sherlock's eyes were bright and slightly glassy. Mycroft sighed dealing with Sherlock when he was making a logical, rational argument was difficult enough. Dealing with an emotional, fearful and fevered Sherlock was a whole new challenge, one that Mycroft was not quite sure how to address.

Sherlock was still watching him, his eyes moving every few seconds to the syringe that Mycroft was still holding. Mycroft noticing this put the syringe on the nightstand next to Sherlock.

"I won't do anything you don't want Sherlock, but I think you would feel much better with a few more hours of rest. Don't you agree?"

"It's my mind Mycroft, it numbs my mind, numbs everything. That numbing sensation, that's what the other drugs did numbed me until I couldn't feel anything. Please don't make me go back to that."

"Sherlock, look at me I'm right here with you. I've stayed with you before and I'll stay with you now. I've told you I won't let you fall back into the pattern, and neither will Dr. Watson for that matter."

Sherlock seemed to be trying to form a counter argument, but instead was muttering non-coherent words under his breath. A quick glance at the monitors told Mycroft that his brother's heart rate was climbing and his temperature had increased point one degree since Mycroft had entered the room. Purely on instinct Mycroft reached out and took his brother's hand. Sherlock stopped muttering, and glanced down at his hand in surprise.

"You're holding my hand." Sherlock said.

"Wonderfully astute observation Sherlock."

"You don't believe in physical contact."

"You're ill Sherlock, what I do or do not believe is quote irrelevant at the current moment."

"Why are you holding my hand then?"

"Your hand was shaking, Sherlock I feared you were on the verge of having a panic attack, although your reasoning for such eludes me. I would be willing to bet that you are unaware of the reasons as well." Sherlock looked around trying to make sense of all the facts before turning back to look at Mycroft.

"Mycroft, I don't think I feel very well." Sherlock said weakly. Mycroft sighed in relief.

"I know Sherlock, I know. Now this can make you feel better if you let it." Mycroft said nodding to the syringe that was sitting on the nightstand.

"You promise you won't leave me?" Sherlock said looking at Mycroft with eyes that looked entirely too young.

"I promise Sherlock, I'll be with you the whole time."

Sherlock seemed to be content with this answer, and relaxed back into the bed. Mycroft released Sherlock's hand and reached for the syringe. Injecting the drug directly into Sherlock's I.V line. Mycroft went to lean back in the chair but Sherlock stopped him.

"Stay here with me?"

"Of course Sherlock." With that Mycroft moved the chair closer to Sherlock's bedside, and placed his hand once more on Sherlock's arm.

"Sleep now Sherlock, I'll be here when you wake up." Sherlock nodded and closed his eyes, and Mycroft watched as his younger fell back into his drug induced slumber. Mycroft could only hope that Sherlock's health would be much improved after he slept, he wasn't quite sure that he could convince Sherlock to take the sedative again even if he needed it.


	13. Chapter 13

Mycroft wasn't sure exactly how long it was that he sat there with Sherlock before a gentle knock at the door interrupted the silence. Looking up wearily he noted that John Watson was peering in at him from the doorway.

"Sorry" he said as he came into the room. "Your, um...Anthea, told me you were in here."

John was still standing near the doorway, although afraid to come in. However given the softness with which he was speaking lent more credibility to the theory that he didn't want to risk waking Sherlock. Sitting back in his chair Mycroft motioned for John to take the seat next to him.

"Do come in John, you won't wake him I assure you. He's sedated for the moment." John's brow furrowed at this statement.

"Is he worse then? I thought she said…" John gestured vaguely to the door, where Anthea had obviously met him earlier, before turning his head to look at Sherlock's vitals still being displayed on the monitors near his bed, still muttering to himself.

"I can assure you John that Sherlock is indeed on the path to recovery. Sherlock's sedation as of current is simply a precaution to prevent a relapse. As I'm sure you are aware Sherlock's brain functions slightly different than the average person. In particular after a migraine his brain goes into a sort of overdrive trying to make up for the time lost to the migraine. Since he does still have a fever, Dr. Sangushi recommended that I give him the sedative to insure that he gets at least a few hours of decent rest."

Mycroft spoke swiftly, almost sounding automatic. John was nodding half heartedly as he listened to Mycroft belay his worries about his flat mate. Now taking a closer look John noted the improvement in Sherlock's overall appearance. Although his cheeks still appeared a tad flushed, the ghostly pallor that has occupied Sherlock's face earlier seemed to have dissipated. Mycroft was no longer watching him, John noted with some relief, and instead was checking his watch. Mycroft checking his watch must mean that he had been here for quite some time. John vaguely wondered how long Mycroft had been standing guard over his brother when another thought came to the forefront of his mind.

"Did you say you had to give him the sedative?"

John wondered out loud, while at the same time playing through various scenarios in his head that would have resulted in Mycroft needing to administer the sedation rather than Dr. Sangushi or himself. Mycroft sighed and motioned for John to return to the chair he had vacated when he went to look at Sherlock's vitals. The intimidation John often felt when facing the older Holmes was returning in full force as Mycroft's eyes found his.

"As I'm sure you saw in his file Sherlock has had some rather unfortunate events as a result of his use of certain drugs."

Mycroft spoke blandly know, trying his best to keep all emotion out if his voice as he spoke. John only nodded waiting for Mycroft to continue.

"I'm afraid John that in Sherlock's case there are only a few sedatives left that he can take, that will actually do him any good. Unfortunately for him, and for you and I, the sedatives he can take can be triggers for him. As you can imagine Sherlock can be quite vehement in his refusal to take the sedatives once his migraine has progressed far enough along that he can be coherent. There are times of course when he doesn't require the use of a sedative to allow him rest after a migraine, but those are few in number; the majority of the time, however it falls to me to persuade him into taking the sedative."

John nodded his mind searching desperately for the right words. However the composure that Mycroft regained while explaining the situation was throwing John off. Mycroft seemed completely oblivious to John's struggles however and continued talking.

"Either way John, he should be waking up in about two hours, and I do believe that he will demand to return home. Unless Sherlock's condition deteriorates quickly I will have the arrangements made for you both to return to 221B Baker Street after he awakes."

"Er, yes, that sounds good then." John said flustered. How both Mycroft and Sherlock always seemed to speak with such authority was beyond John. Mycroft seemed satisfied enough with this answer and turned back to his silent observation of Sherlock.


End file.
